“How I wish I could see the answer,” muttered the Overland girl, as she watched Hamilton White, with glasses at his eyes, receiving the message that was being sent to him.
Grace Harlowe’s, however, were not the only pair of eyes that witnessed that exhibition of signalling. Other eyes were observing, but that other pair could not read a word of what the signallers were saying.
White dropped his glasses and snatched up his flag, and she read, this time with greater ease:
“It may be fatal. Great danger to both. My responsibility. Must have instant action. This an order. Obey without loss time. Report soon as anything to say.” The guide signed his name, and the words that followed the signature filled Grace Harlowe with amazement. She saw the guide remove the flag from its staff and hide it under a stone, after which he descended to the camp, passing the open tents without so much as a glance at them.
Ham stirred up the fire and put over the breakfast, and, while it was cooking, Grace came out, greeting him cheerfully.
“Is there any news, Mr. White?” she asked sweetly.
“No, not yet.”
“What have you done?”
“I signalled to a fire-lookout station that assistance was needed. It is best to wait until we hear from them.”
“How, signal?” she questioned, appearing not to understand.